


Shenanigans

by EzzyDean



Category: Dragon Age II, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for all those wanderers to call home when they need it.  (Shenanigans is the CrossRoads CrossOver place to be.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Shenanigans

I was the closest thing to normal that the alley had ever seen.  No magical powers, no super strength, nothing mystic about me at all.  I didn’t hunt evil creatures or try to rule kingdoms.  I was and always will be just a normal person.  The bouncer was a huge scarred man with slightly crazy hair who had eyes that lit up at the thought of a good fight.  He liked to argue with the red-headed bartender and he would laugh when her face flushed in anger as she leaned over the bar and grabbed his jacket.  One of the waitresses always had a smile on her face, showing off a jeweled stud just under her lips, and a sway in her hips that drew the gaze of everyone.  Another waitress was a quiet girl, in love with nature, who got overly flustered a lot but was never as ditzy as she acted.  Rumor was the owners, who none of us had ever actually seen, had gotten the money for the place from a bank heist.  Just as popular was the rumor that they had gotten it by writing suggestive limericks and following people around in one of the big cities, singing them as loudly as possible until the people they were following paid them to leave them alone.  The customers?  Well most of the customers were regulars of varying types.  Some hunted, some ruled, some just slaved away in an office somewhere.  Some came in every day and some came in only once or twice a month.  But they always came back.

 

Unfortunately some of them also liked to conveniently forget they owed us money while they were away and it was my lucky job to keep on top of it, a job I really didn’t want to have been given in the first place.  So when the man came in - disheveled blonde hair, empty piercing in his ear, bags under his eyes – I welcomed the distraction from the pile of notes, bills, and IOUs sitting on the bar in front of me.  He dropped into a booth in the corner and I was pretty sure I saw dust puff up from his old coat.  Somehow he managed to simultaneously look far too big and far too small in his quilted coat.  Grabbing a glass of water I slid into the booth across from him and studied his face when I handed it over.  I had seen people like him in here before: lost, weary, on the run from who knew what, and just looking for a break.  He flashed me a grateful smile after he swallowed half the glass in one gulp and I realized that once upon a time he must have been a heartbreaker.  When he pulled his pack into his lap I sneezed and thought that if he got a shower and a change of clothes he might still be one.  Digging out a leather pouch with one dirty hand he finished the rest of the glass.

“What do I owe you for this?”  The voice that slipped over to me was made for laughing and teasing and sweet words but had the edge of someone who had seen far too much in their short life.  Taking his glass for a refill I shook my head when he tried to hand me some money.

“No charge.  It’s just water.  And you looked like you could use it.”  I gave him a smile and went back to my papers.  “Just let me know if there’s something else you’d like.”  Sitting at the bar I sorted my papers into coherent piles – I really needed to remind everyone to stop throwing scraps of paper into my bill pile – as the man pulled out an tattered book and started paging through it.  The sound of the clock behind the bar ticking towards seven AM and papers being sifted through were the only sounds in the alley.  When I finally got my papers in order I realized he had closed his book and was staring at me.  “Was there something you needed?”  He shifted and propped his elbows on the table.

“Well.  The main reason I came in was I saw that your sign says you were looking for help.”  I marked down on my notebook the debts I was owed and waited for him to continue.  When he didn’t right away I closed my book and turned towards him.

“That it does.”  He blinked at me in surprise, obviously expecting a different response.

“Well, you are looking for help, right?”

“That we are.”  I lazily spun myself left and right on the bar stool as he got around to what he wanted to say.  I could tell that rushing him would be a poor choice; right now just offering him a job would make him just as likely to turn and run as it would comfort him.

“What kind of jobs do you have available?  I’m looking for something to,” he sighed and ran his finger over his book, “well to be completely honest I’m pretty much broke and could use something to help me get some food.”  Pretending to go over the positions in my head I studied him.  His slender fingers had calloused tips and his long coat appeared to hide a fairly muscular pair of arms.  He wasn’t used to a soft life that much was certain.  A little on the thin and filthy side maybe, but a few good meals and a shower would take care of that.

“Oh we have many positions open.  What sort of things can you do?”  Another response he wasn’t expecting, I realized as he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and glanced around the alley.  Had he ever done this before?

“Well.  I’ve done some fighting, but I’ve put that behind me.  No really.”  He insisted with a tired smile when I raised my eyebrow at him, glancing pointedly at the scrape on his cheek.  “That was simply a misunderstanding.  And let’s see.  I’ve done a lot of healing and fixing injuries.  I’ve done some negotiating, some drinking, some arguing.  I’ve done a lot of things and I don’t know what kind of job you have to give me but I am willing to try it.”  Looking into his golden eyes I saw just how tired he was.  A soul deep tired that was so full of pain that I had to fight the urge to give him a hug.  Instead I just nodded and smiled, knowing that my decision had been made as soon as he opened his mouth, actually I made it as soon as I looked up and saw him.

“We could always use someone who has some medical training around here.  Plus there’s always more little jobs to do than we seem to have people for.  We’ll go over hours and details later.  I’ll have whoever comes in next show you to a bed if you want.”  I stuck out my hand felt a little shock as he cautiously took it.  “Welcome to Shenanigans.”


	2. One of Those Days

It was one of those days.  You know the kind.  Where it seems like everything that could have gone wrong has and you’re left standing in the rubble of a day just shy of wonderful while the crows laugh at you from the trees at the edge of the parking lot.  Yeah.  One of _those_ days.  I pulled into the gravel lot that the alley sat on almost two hours later than I should have thanks to, among other things, hitting every red light between home and here and coming across a train crossing I didn’t even know existed.  I stepped out of my car and into a puddle.  Shaking off the water as best I could I squelched my way into my home away from home hoping I could find a spare pair of shoes somewhere inside.  The drops of blood trailing from behind the bar towards the bathroom was my first clue that even Shenanigans and her crew wasn’t going to be safe from this day.  Hearing our ponytailed handyman throwing some curses around as I cracked open the bathroom door was my second clue.

 

"So, um, what happened?"  I watched his reflection from the doorway, keeping my distance.  Fresh blood wasn’t really good for me.

"You were supposed to be here two hours ago.  What the blazes happened to you?"

"Doesn’t matter.  I’m here in one piece, even if my shoe is a little soggy.  You’re the one who bled across the bar and into the bathroom."

"Yeah, well, it’s not like I planned it.  I don’t really get off on slicing my arm on broken glass ya know.  I guess one of the regulars noticed that big map hanging behind the bar was crooked and I was tryin’ to fix it while waiting for you to show up today.  Instead the nails holding it up gave way and it hit the back counter and shattered.  While I was trying to catch it.  Which is how I wound up wounded."

"Get yourself cleaned up and we’ll do the same for the bar."  I let the bathroom door shut behind me as I headed back to the front.  "Someone save me from this day."  I muttered and eyed the broken glass covering the floor and counter, my squishy shoe forgotten.  Why the owners had insisted on this map hanging up on the wall was a mystery.  Oh it fit in with the decor well enough.  Not that the kind of hodgepodge every decade every world assortment of furniture and decorations was really a set style or anything.  But there was always something kind of off about the map.  I shook my head as Anders returned to my side with a broom and we set about cleaning it up.

The rest of our day followed suit pretty well.  Our bartender broke three glasses and a finger, our two best waitresses crashed into each other multiple times and spilled their trays, every lane broke down at least once and for almost an hour the entire alley was down.  Even the latest addition to our crew, a nice quiet guy who liked to be called Alfie and had gotten the small kitchen fixed up with Anders, wasn’t safe.  The day claimed him too and every last thing he tried to cook wound up wrong - burnt, partially uncooked, smashed, scattered, or still frozen.  The poor kid was just as bad off as the rest of us.  But when the sun went down is when the real trouble started.  Because when the sun went down she walked in.

She had an air about her that spoke of years on the road and sights better unseen.  Lot of the time she and the brothers, another pair of regulars, would hang out in a corner booth along with a skinny little thing, all trench coat and wide eyes.  The younger brother only had eyes for the trench coat.  But she and the older brother?  They made waves in our little establishment and that night was one hell of a hurricane.

That night she came in, all blue jeans and gold bangles with the sun setting behind her, leading a guy I had never seen before, and he looked smooth.  Like he could talk my mother out of every cent she had stashed away smooth, and we all know how my mother is.  His shoulder length blonde hair was loose, he had a simple tattoo near his left eye that crinkled when he smiled, and even from my spot at the bar I could tell he could make things happen with that smile.  They took the corner booth and stayed there for hours, murmuring and laughing away, as if the entire night and the entire bar had been made just for them to enjoy this night.  I took them their first round since our waitresses were cleaning up their latest crash and with just a few sentences I knew his voice and words could make plenty happen too.  They were quite a pair.  But she was a wild card and he wasn’t the only one she played poker with around here.  That much was apparent the moment he spotted them.  There was no piano tinkling to a stop or conversations silencing but there was definitely a chill in the air when the brothers stopped just a few steps into the room.  A loud laugh came from the corner and I found my eyes drifting between the two fronts as I slipped to a closer table.  Better to referee the situation, I told myself, in case I needed to call over the bouncer.

“Isa- Isabela?”  The older brother asked in disbelief.  “What in the hell are you doing here?  I thought you had some big case going down on the other side of the country?”  His voice wasn’t loud but it carried well enough to where I was sitting.  I hadn’t been here many night shifts but even I could recognize that he was pissed. 

“Dean, man, c’mon.  Let’s just get a drink at a table and leave this alone.”  His brother stepped forward and put his hand on his shoulder but Dean shrugged it off.

“No, Sam.  Back off.  I’ve had a bad day and, oh man, this is just the icing on the cake.”  So it seemed the day wasn’t contained to just Shenanigans.  Someone somewhere had broken some mirrors in our names it seemed.  He slammed his hand on the table, knocking her glass to the floor, and leaned in close to her.  I couldn’t hear what was being said and I watched as Sam and her companion just smiled uncomfortably at each other.  Low voices came to me as the alley and bar continued running. They were in their own world and the rest of us were in ours.  Until Dean said something that set her off and she stood up so fast he nearly fell over trying to step back.

“Excuse me, pretty boy, but who are you to throw down statements like that?”  The atmosphere shifted and everyone quieted down a bit, tensing.  It was like that moment when the lights dim at a theatre and everyone holds their breath just before the show starts.

“Pretty boy?  You’re here with,” he gestured to the man still sitting in the booth, “him and you’re calling me pretty boy.  Really?”

“I’m here with a dear, important, friend of mine and you come in and start throwing around accusations and acting like you own me?”  Her arms crossed her chest and she stared him down.  “Believe me, boy, no one owns me.”

“Look I don’t care who you’re here with or why, sweetheart.  What I care about is you lied to me.”  Her companion stood up beside Isabela and smiled.

“Look, Dean, is it?  Let’s not be harsh.  We can all be friends here, no?”  He patted Dean’s shoulder and smiled again, trying to defuse the situation, no doubt.  The two men were opposite cards in the same deck.  Dean was rough and haggard in his worn blue jeans and leather jacket.  Isabela’s companion was smooth and slick in clean slacks and a dress jacket.  Both were well versed in the ways of the world and had seen more of it than most.  Isabela took her companion by the elbow and started to walk away.

“Let’s go, Zev.  He’s too blindly stupid right now to think straight and I’m starting to get bored of it.”  She walked past my table and I could see that she was nearly as angry as Dean was, though obviously for different reasons.  That guy was such a handful.

“What was that?  Who are you calling stupid?”  Dean grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him.  She followed through the movement and ended it with a right hook into his cheek.  “What the hell?”

“One, you’re lucky it was just your cheek.  Two, never grab me like that again.  Three, I called you stupid.  Because right now you are too pissed about whatever your problem is to think.  Therefore, right now, you are stupid and we are leaving.”  The entire room watched as she walked to the hallway leading to the door, leaving the brothers speechless behind her.  “Are you coming, Zev?”  I looked at him and saw an entirely new smile on his face.  Not the one that could earn him anything he wanted but one that said he knew what she wanted and was proud of her.

“But of course, my lovely friend, let us go.”  He turned back to the room and gave a quick bow.  “Have a good night everyone.  I hope you enjoyed the show.”  There was a wave of uncomfortable noise as the room came back to life, embarrassed at being caught staring.  As Zev passed Dean, a few steps past my table, he leaned towards him and whispered, “Making her angry is not going to win you any points, my friend.  If you truly feel for her as I think you do you should try again in a few days when you both cool down a bit.”

 

“Note to our esteemed owners:

Locked door at 3:15am.  Anders asleep in his room.  Dean and Sam asleep in their car in parking lot. 

Total count as follows: Anders – cut arm, no stiches, one roll of gauze  
Aveline – 3 glasses broken, broken finger, left early to get finger looked at  
Mer & Izzy – 3 shotglasses, 5 mugs, 6 bottles, 1 glass, and 2 trays broken, various scrapes, nothing serious  
Alfie – all meals barely edible, but customers still accepted them  
Misc – map needs new frame/glass, three lights replaced, all lanes broken down at least once today, women’s bathroom sinks backed up, men’s bathroom door lock broken, one table broken (Dean) and one chair broken (Sam sat in it and it just poofed into a bunch of pieces)

I’m going home.  If my car starts if not I’ll be here when you get in.  And I need a new pair of shoes.  Mine are still squishy.”


	3. You're Welcome Too

The best thing about Shenanigans was the fact that it was there.  Shenanigans is always there for you and so is the staff.  A safe haven.  A home away from home.  An actual home.    It connects with that little instinct that kicks in when you are wandering and need a place.  Like a life buoy dragging you through a foggy sea.  You aren’t sure where you are going but you know it has to be better than where you are.  Which is probably how the stray cats always come in.  That instinct and, of course, our resident odd jobs man, Anders.  Anders himself had wandered in on instinct one day and hadn’t made any move to leave yet.  Not that it mattered.  Shenanigans had a way of doing that to a person.

 

The day had been a productive one.  Anders and I had managed to clean out the owners’ office, not that they ever really used it for anything other than collecting oddities and trinkets, and find the record book we were looking for.  Finding what we were searching for and not causing a fire or avalanche in the process was always a productive day in my book.  As I sat at the bar flipping through the book I felt Anders staring at me.

“Just what are you finding so fascinating?  Do I have dust stuck in an inappropriate place?”  He let out that chuckle of his and I turned to see him smiling.  A rare sight when we met it was reassuring to see it come out to play more often now.

“No I was just remembering when I first came in here.  You were sitting in that exact same spot with the same half confused look on your face.”

“Oh.  Gee.  Thanks.  As you can see the paperwork isn’t getting any easier.  In fact I think they’re making up new ways to frustrate me.”  I dropped my head onto the book as he laughed and after a moment I had to join in.  A scratching at the back door drew his attention and he hurried through the hallway past the bathrooms, still laughing.

“No more strays, Anders.  I mean it.”  I yelled after him.  Only halfheartedly though.  He usually only kept a stray cat for a few days while he got it fed and healthy.  But it was becoming more and more of a habit and it was starting to cut into the extra goods fund we pulled off every week.  “What the hell am I even supposed to do with this thing anyway?  Damn owners.”  I muttered to myself, flipping pages absently.  Why we desperately needed to find a record book with nothing but line after line of dirty jokes  and something labeled “Embarrassment Rank and Fee in Kirkwall” was beyond me.   I heard some shuffling noises in the hall and glanced at the clock.  It had already been almost ten minutes and I was tired of being confused.

“Um about that no strays thing.”  Anders poked his head around the corner.  “I’m thinking I have to overrule that decision.”  He stepped into the lounge half carrying a young man.  He set him gently in a booth, the same one he had dropped his dusty self into before asking for a job not all that long ago, and grabbed his first aid kit.  It was a special one that he had put together himself and refused to let anyone else get into.   _These herbs and lotions and such are all handmade and very powerful.  Just leave it all to me._   He had said as he tucked it away into one of his pockets.  “His name is Alfie and he’s our new cook.”  Anders declared as he pulled out bottles and cloths and set to work on the kid.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Over-excuse me?  First of all, since when do we even have a kitchen to need a cook in?”

“We have one.  Well.  It’s almost done anyway.  And you know we need to serve something other than nachos around here.”  I pretended to think about it a moment even though I knew he was right.  The nachos and pretzels weren’t really doing it for anyone lately.  There had been loud discussions of cheeseburgers and pies just last weekend.

“Fine.  Second.  When did you get to be in charge of decisions around here?”  His deft hands cleaned and dressed the wounds so quickly it was like they were just knitting themselves back together at his command.

“Um that would be when you handed me a set of keys to the building and called me your unofficial second-in-command.”

“Oh.  So that’s what I did with those keys.  Well.”  The kid opened his eyes and gave me a shy smile as Anders helped him stand up.

“Um, call me Alfie.  It’s nice to meet you.”  He held out his hand, covered in bandages, still smiling.  “I’d really appreciate it if you would let me stay for a little while.  I won’t be any trouble, I promise.  And I can cook really good food.”  I was cornered between Anders’s puppy dog eye attack and Alfie’s sincere smile and gave in with a groan.  Not that I had much intention of arguing anyway.  It was kind of an unwritten rule at Shenanigans.  If we can help you, we will. 

“Fine.  Anything has to be better than the stale nachos with cheese and bologna sandwiches Anders keeps trying to feed us.  But you and Anders have to finish up the kitchen on your own.”  Alfie’s smile grew as he shook my hand and nodded.  “You got that, Anders?  Your responsibility.”  He grinned at me as he repacked his first aid kit.  “I’m serious.  He’s not some cat you can hide in the coolers for a couple days and hope we won’t notice.”

“Oh.  One time.  One time and I’ll never live it down.”  He pocketed his kit and motioned for Alfie to follow him.  “Let’s leave bossy here to her paperwork.”

“Oh now that is a low blow, Anders.”  I looked at the book on the bar and flopped into the booth instead, muttering.  “Welcome to Shenanigans.”


End file.
